Homeland
by molly2012
Summary: Ziva and Gibbs are sent to Israel on a mission from SecNav. Returning to her homeland provides Ziva with much-needed peace over her relationship with her father and events in Somalia. Set sometime in season 10 (but no spoilers-season 10 hasn't aired here yet!). Gibbs-Ziva relationship, Zibbs towards the end. Please read and review!
1. Mission

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters (if I did, I wouldn't be sat here, now, would I !). My first fan fic, so please, read, review and enjoy! **

Gibbs waited until the door had shut quietly behind DiNozzo and Ziva, before turning back to the Director. There was a look of disbelief and anger on his face.

'Seriously, Leon?'

'No other choice, Gibbs'. Leon Vance did at least have the grace to look a little unhappy himself. 'I wouldn't be giving these orders if I didn't think she – and DiNozzo – were up to the job'.

'You're sending Ziva back to Israel'. It was a statement, not a question. There was an undercurrent of fury in Gibbs' tone that he couldn't be bothered to hide. 'Without even consulting with me first? _My_ team, Leon.'

'It's three days, Gibbs. Max. Fly in. Pick up the suspect at the Embassy in Tel Aviv. Fly back to DC.'

Gibbs sighed in exasperation. It wasn't just the fact that this mission had been arranged between Leon and SecNav without his knowledge. It was the fact they were wanting to send Ziva to carry it out. As far as he was concerned, it was like sending her back into the lion's den. She wouldn't be able to avoid seeing her father again, and he had no wish to open that particular can of worms at the present time. The team had been through enough as it was.

'Why Ziva? Why not McGee?'

Vance studied Gibbs for a minute, as if wondering how much to say. Finally he seemed to come to a decision.

'The suspect is an Israeli national. Ehud Shalev. A Captain in the IDF. The Israelis suspected that he was selling information about Israel's missile defence prototype to Hamas in Gaza. And probably, indirectly, to Iran. Shin Bet kept him under surveillance, but never had enough evidence to do anything more until last week.'

Gibbs looked impassive. 'So why is NCIS involved?'

'Whenever an exchange took place – information for money – the US Sixth Fleet was in town at Haifa. Shin Bet don't believe in coincidences. They brought in Mossad, who've agreed to let us bring Shalev here for questioning, see if we can find out who was helping him'.

Gibbs nodded. 'Fine. But you still haven't answered my question. Why Ziva and not McGee?'

For the first time since Ziva and DiNozzo had left the room, he became aware of the man sitting in the corner. Secretary Jarvis leaned forward, and studied Gibbs for a moment before speaking.

'Shalev's first language is Hebrew. He speaks English but I'd rather have a native speaker there. I don't want there being any …ah…_misunderstanding_s'.

'Misunderstandings, ?' Gibbs didn't like where this conversation was going.

Jarvis's expression became intense, determined. 'I need Agent David to go over the case files held by Shin Bet and Mossad before we bring him back here. I also want her to talk to him. I want to know exactly what we're dealing with before he lands on US soil, and obviously the files are in Hebrew. I don't want the wool pulled over our eyes on this one. If someone in the US Navy has been aiding a terrorist, I need to know without trying to compete for jurisdiction'.

Gibbs looked at Jarvis long and hard. The meaning behind his words was starting to sink in.

'You don't trust Mossad', he said slowly. 'Or the Shin Bet. You don't trust Eli David not to screw us over'.

Jarvis raised one eyebrow. 'Would you?'

Gibbs breathed deeply. _This one might not be such a beaurocratic idiot after all. _He looked at Vance, wondering about his Director's past history with Eli David, Director of Mossad and – unfortunately – Ziva's father. But if Vance was concerned at Jarvis's words, he didn't let it show.

'So they leave tomorrow?'

It was Vance who answered. 'Tomorrow. An El Al flight leaves Dulles at 06.30. They'll go to the Embassy on Wednesday, see Shalev, and get the files. Fly back – with Shalev – on Thursday. There'll be two air marshalls aboard the return flight in case of any security problems'.

Gibbs nodded slowly, although he knew he didn't really have a choice.

'On one condition'.

This time Vance was the one to raise an eyebrow.

'Which is, Agent Gibbs?'

'I go with Ziva instead of DiNozzo.'

Vance looked at Gibbs for a long moment, but the request didn't seem to come as too much of a surprise to him. He had guessed that Gibbs would want to be there in case of problems with Eli. Slowly he nodded.

Gibbs nodded back. He turned to Jarvis. 'Mr Secretary'. Jarvis nodded. 'Gibbs'. And with that, Gibbs turned and left the room.


	2. Blessing

Ziva stood at the top of the basement stairs, watching Gibbs work. She hadn't made a sound while picking the lock on his front door and walking round to the basement, but she knew that he knew she was there. He gave no sign of it, though, and carried on rhythmically sanding, up and down and up and down. Occasionally he would stop for a second to run his fingers over a particular section of wood, checking whether it was smooth enough, but he made no move to acknowledge her presence. She didn't mind. She loved watching him work, and she had been here enough times to know that she was welcome. He didn't have to stop and say hi and get her a drink. Although a shot of the bourbon he kept down here was always welcome, and with that thought in mind, she finally descended the stairs.

'Hello, Gibbs'.

He finally put down the sander, and looked over at her. He looked tired, but more than that, she thought, he looked strained and worried.

'Hey, Ziver'. His casual use of her nickname made her smile.

'How's it going?' she asked, nodding towards the boat.

'Fine', he answered, moving over to the workbench and tipping nails out of two jars. He poured a finger-width of bourbon into each, and handed one to Ziva. She took it without saying anything, and sipped in silence for a few minutes, looking round the basement. When her gaze returned to Gibbs, he was looking at her intently.

'Ziver…'

She interrupted him in a rush. 'Before you say anything, Gibbs, I came to tell you I am ok with this…mission. I am, really. If I see Eli, then, well, these things happen, and…'. Her voice tailed off, as if she wasn't really sure how to continue. Gibbs said nothing. He knew better than to push.

She took a deep breath. 'I think that perhaps a visit to Israel would be good for me. I've been feeling a little…ah….not homesick exactly, but…ah…' Again her voice tailed off.

Gibbs resisted the urge to reach out and hold her, as he always had to when she showed him her vulnerable side. It didn't happen very often, but when it did she seemed to awaken every instinct that he thought had died with Kelly. Plus – and he had to admit this to himself – a few instincts that weren't fatherly at all. He was a man, after all, and not immune to certain qualities she possessed. Apart from the fact that he had no wish to find a knife in his back if he did pull her into an unexpected hug one day, he didn't quite trust himself to keep it to a hug. _Rule 12, Jethro. Rule 12, _whispered the little voice in his head. _So why did you insist on going with her to Israel?_

'Not homesick…..maybe homeland-sick? A better way of describing it', Ziva continued, bringing him back to the present. 'I don't regret becoming an American citizen, not for one moment. And America is home now. But Israel still has a certain…..pull on me, and I need to go back, Gibbs, I need to….'. He broke her off by placing a finger over her lips.

'You need to go back because it might help you cope with what your father did to you, and what happened to you in Somalia?'

Her eyes registered her shock, and her body stiffened without her realising. Not only was that the most Gibbs had said in one go all day, it was the absolute truth. _How can he know what I couldn't even admit to myself? How can he know I still have nightmares? How can he know I still can't stand confined spaces? How does he know how much I hate my father, and how much that is eating me up? _Gibbs realised how tense she had suddenly become and he let his hand drop to his side, but his gaze held hers. He knew she had never talked to anyone about what really happened to her in the desert where her father had left her to die. He had read her statements, and the medical report Ducky had compiled – just once. Ducky's file had been the most revealing. He had forced himself to read page after page of horror. Every bruise, every cut, every burn, every sexual assault had been documented in hideous, clinical detail. He knew Ducky was just being thorough, and that he would have tried to make Ziva as comfortable and relaxed as possible, but anger still burned through him when he thought of her having to be subjected to intimate examinations after all she had just been through. He also knew that it came back to haunt her. He could see it in her eyes when their cases had brought them rape victims. When she had no choice but to enter confined spaces that had become crime scenes. When she refused even to utter Eli's name. And Israel was where it had all started – where she had been born, where she had been raised, where she had been taught to kill. It was where Eli had taught her to bury emotion and cry alone, where she had lost her beloved sister and mother, and where he, Gibbs, had left her standing on the tarmac when the team returned to DC without her. It was where Eli had given her the mission to locate Saleem and kill him in the Somali desert, _at any cost. _And she hadn't been back once since.

'Wouldn't talking be easier?'

She managed to hold his gaze, but gave a slight shake of her head. How could she talk to anyone now? Things had changed, people had moved on. She herself had moved on – she was an American citizen now, and had one failed relationship behind her to prove it. She didn't want to admit that – even if Ray hadn't turned out to be a murdering dirtbag – the relationship would have failed anyway because of her refusal to open up. _But somehow Gibbs seems to know_, she thought. _How the hell can he read me like a book – a book that even I struggle to open?_

'Well, you should know that SecNav and Vance changed their minds about DiNozzo going', Gibbs said, suddenly all business. 'I'm coming instead'. Ziva nodded slowly. Vance had told her and DiNozzo earlier that day, and she had found it hard not to laugh at DiNozzo's obvious relief. Israel was not his favourite place.

'I should go', she said quietly, draining her jar of bourbon. 'I haven't packed yet'.

Gibbs nodded. As she turned to leave, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently, just enough to let her know that he understood why she wanted this mission, and that it was ok, and that he would be there with her. She gave a small smile, and was gone as quietly as she came.


	3. First Impressions

_Next two chapters are up! This is going to be longer than I thought...Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapters, and followed the story - and me! Following people's advice I have taken the rating down to a T. I have also - and I'm sorry if this disappoints anyone (!) - taken the 'father-daughter' description out. I'm still not convinced I'll end up with full blown Zibbs, but it's not platonic either..._

_Again, please, read, review and enjoy! _

**Ziva**

Ziva stood under the shower, letting the warm needles of water massage away the long flight. She felt drained and empty. When the plane had landed at Ben Gurion, she had not quite known what to do. Everything looked so different. Handing over her American passport, she had felt a tiny swell of something like pride, only to feel it deflate as a random page was singled out and stamped with her entry visa. She knew it was just a formality, but that stamp now marked her as an outsider, a temporary visitor in the place she had once called home. Stepping outside the airport and onto Israeli soil had been one of the hardest things she had ever done. The hot, humid air was like a wall, and for a moment she had struggled to breathe. Only the gentle pressure of Gibbs's hand on her arm had prevented her panicking. All around she heard Hebrew, a language that she still found herself dreaming in but rarely used any more, and she struggled to separate the different conversations going on all around her. The air was heavy with the scent of…what? Jasmine? Spices? She could not tell. Her ears hummed, the noise of the cars and taxis and buses faded into the background and she felt again a gentle squeeze on her arm and Gibbs' reassuring voice telling her to breathe, David, remember to breathe. Somehow she got them a taxi, asking for _malon Metropolitan_, and watched the city speed past in a blur. She was vaguely aware of Gibbs sitting next to her and the heat of the sun pounding through the car window, competing with the cold blast of the car's air conditioning. She was not used to the heat any more. When the taxi turned onto Kaufmann Street she gazed at the intense blue of the Mediterranean as if it could wrap itself around her and take her away to a different shore, somewhere cool and welcoming, away from her father and all the ghosts that lay buried here. _She was not ready to face this yet. She had been stupid to even try. _When the taxi pulled up at the hotel on HaYarkon Street she wanted to tell the driver to take her back to the airport, to take her back home because this was not home anymore, and she could not be here. Instead she paid with a shaky hand, and walked with Gibbs into the hotel where they checked in at reception. She could tell he was worried, he had not wanted to leave her but she had insisted on going and freshening up in her own room. She would meet him in an hour, she said. She knew she had been longer than that already, but she was not ready to face the city – or him – just yet. She was furious with herself for being so…_weak. _But whatever she had expected to feel on her return to Israel, it was not this.

**Gibbs**

Gibbs stood in his hotel room, staring out of the window. Even after a shower and a change of clothes, he felt tense and on edge. Ziva worried him. When they had landed at Ben Gurion, she had seemed dazed and a little disorientated; outside the terminal building she had almost had a panic attack. He remembered turning round from the taxi rank to see her still standing by the terminal entrance, a terrified, panicked look in her eyes like a deer caught in headlights. With a couple of strides he had been back by her side and gripping her arm, partly to comfort her and partly to keep her upright. They had stayed there for ten minutes. She seemed to pull round a little in the taxi, but when they reached the hotel and she checked them in, the hand that gave him his key card was still shaking. He wondered whether he should have insisted on staying with her for a while, but knew how embarrassed and angry with herself she would be. He didn't want to make it worse. Much as he hated the thought of her struggling on her own, he also knew that habits of a lifetime were hard to break. They were very alike in that respect. He had to trust her to come to him when she was ready. And trust himself not to mess up and take things too far. _Rule 12, Jethro…again. _

He gave himself a mental headslap and turned away from the window. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten all day – even El Al, it seemed, couldn't manage decent in-flight food. Guessing that Ziva would not want to go out to eat tonight, he glanced at the room service menu but quickly dismissed it. He needed some air, anyway.

He turned out of the hotel, away from the direction of the sea towards Ben Yehuda Street. _So much for air. _The atmosphere was stifling, heavy with humidity and the heat of the day. No wonder everyone else seemed to be heading towards the beach. He walked on, looking for a decent looking take-out place, all the while aware of another pair of eyes on his back. _Wonder who he's sent? _He'd expected it, but it annoyed him all the same. Stopping at a café that advertised take-out sandwiches and falafel, he turned and found himself face to face with a man he had hoped never to have to see again.

'Malachi Ben-Gidon'.

'Special Agent Gibbs. I had hoped I would not have to welcome you to my country again, but it seems our superiors have other ideas'.

'What have you done to piss Eli off so badly?' asked Gibbs, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Malachi shot him a sharp look, and held out a thick brown envelope.

'Nothing, Agent Gibbs. On the contrary. I was asked to give you this.' He handed the envelope to Gibbs, who took it with raised eyebrows.

'The information Mossad has on Shalev. You may find it more revealing than what you will receive from Shin Bet at the Embassy tomorrow'.

Gibbs nodded, and turned to the menu on the board in front of him. He didn't want to think about what this sudden gesture of generosity from Eli David would cost. Malachi turned to leave.

'Oh, and Agent Gibbs? If you are ordering for Ziva too, she always liked the sabich'.


	4. Working Dinner

Ziva opened the door of her room to find Gibbs standing in the corridor, holding a bulging envelope in one hand and two paper bags in the other. He held up the bags.

'Dinner'.

She stepped back to let him in, praying that he wasn't going to mention her earlier…_weakness_, and wondering, for a fleeting moment, whether Rule 12 actually allowed Gibbs to be in her bedroom with dinner. _Maybe this is not such a good idea. _

'I am not really hungry Gibbs. But thank you'.

'Gotta eat, Ziva'. He dropped the envelope on to the bed, and placed the bags on the desk. She had to admit, whatever it was smelt great. Her tummy defied her and gave a loud grumble as Gibbs pulled out a huge sandwich stuffed full with eggplant, egg, pickles and tahini and offered it to her. '

She smiled and took the sandwich, inspecting it. 'You got sabich?'

'Yep', Gibbs answered, looking at her carefully. 'On the advice of your old boss'.

Ziva's head shot up, and he saw the questions – and anger - in her eyes. 'You saw Malachi?'

Gibbs nodded towards the envelope on the bed. 'Eli's delivery boy. Mossad's information on Shalev.' He pulled out the chair from its place beside the desk and motioned to Ziva to sit down to eat. She ignored it, perching on the bed instead, and pulled the envelope towards her as she ate.

Gibbs sat on the chair himself and watched her read the papers, her brow furrowed in concentration as she chewed slowly and swallowed. _She looks better. More like herself again. But she didn't ask any more about Malachi. _Her hair was still damp and curly from the shower, and fell over her face as she shifted to a more comfortable cross-legged position. She brushed it back impatiently, and carried on turning pages. The room was quiet, the sounds of the city drifting in through the open window as if from a long way away. The light faded fast outside, sunlight giving way to darkness within the space of half an hour, but it didn't seem to lessen the heat. Gibbs stood up to put the light on, and cleared up the wrappers from their dinner while Ziva carried on reading, completely engrossed in the file. She only broke off when he sat down on the bed next to her, and she looked up to see him smiling. He reached out and gently ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

'Pickle', he explained softly.

She swallowed, her heart beating slightly faster and her lip tingling at his touch. _Careful, David. Be very careful. _

'Actually it is called amba'. Her voice sounded husky, and Gibbs raised one eyebrow. 'The pickle, its proper name is amba. In fact it is not even really a pickle, more of a spicy mango chutney…' She broke off, her cheeks pink, and lowered her eyes to the file again.

Gibbs watched her, amused. _Ziva David, embarrassed. There's a first. _He wondered idly what her reaction would have been if it had been his lips instead of his thumb…._Headslap, Jethro. Rule 12. Yet again. How many times?_ He stood up to stand by the window.

'So. You gonna tell me what's in there?'

'So far, not much. Just background stuff, really. Nothing we could not have got ourselves.' She tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn. Gibbs immediately took the file from her hands and closed it firmly.

'Enough tonight'.

Ziva nodded. Gibbs looked down at her, still sat cross-legged on the bed. She looked exhausted, and he felt a pang of guilt for putting her through this trip. Despite her claims that she had wanted to come and her insistence that she was fine, he knew that none of it was easy and it was affecting her more than she realized. _And right now she needs sleep. _

'You know where I am'. _If you need anything. _

She nodded, yawning again. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the forehead, a chaste, goodnight kiss.

'Goodnight, Gibbs'.

He smiled briefly at her, still sitting in the middle of the bed, before closing her door softly behind him and heading down the corridor to his own room.


	5. Interrogation

_So...finished! These chapters were the hardest to write. I don't think there's anything in there to bump up the rating, but I'm new on here so if anyone thinks otherwise please let me know. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and followed! _

Gibbs watched the screen in front of him, his face impassive. By now he was used to criminals not looking like criminals, monsters not looking like monsters. But Shalev looked so ordinary it was almost funny. Medium height, although he was now sitting down. Medium weight. Dark hair that was not too dark, and the sort of face that you would walk past on the street and not notice. _Which is what we almost did. _He tensed slightly as he saw Ziva enter the room, close the door carefully behind her, and sit down opposite Shalev. They had agreed she would be the one to interview him, as his English was not great, but since the Embassy had no proper interrogation rooms – why should they? – he was having to watch via a video link from another room along the corridor. Hardly ideal if she needed him in a hurry.

Ziva began asking questions in English, taking her time to confirm all the personal information that had been in the Mossad file. Gibbs knew she was starting slowly, getting to know the man in front of her, but he still felt a twitch of impatience. _We need a name, Ziva. _ Still watching the screen, he thought back over the morning.

He had arrived at her room at seven thirty, only to find that she had already been for a run, showered, read the rest of the file and ordered breakfast for the two of them. She was all business, as if trying to forget – to make both of them forget – the emotions of the previous day. He went along with it, knowing better than to push her and besides, they were actually here to work. _Keep reminding yourself that, Jethro. _She had translated the important bits of the file for him, and he read her notes with a growing sense of unease. It seemed Mossad had done their own investigation into Shalev, and like the Shin Bet, suspected a link with the US Sixth Fleet. But somehow they had got their hands on him for interrogation without the knowledge of their sister agency. Gibbs didn't want to know the details, and Ziva didn't volunteer them. Suffice to say that Shalev had admitted selling information, and also to the existence of a second bank account which he used to pay in the money. The details of that account showed large, periodic cash deposits, always just after the USS _Mount Whitney_ left port at Haifa. He looked up at Ziva.

'The deposits were US dollars'.

Ziva nodded. 'Which in itself is not that unusual. Most places in Israel accept them, and they use the banks to change them to shekels. I would assume that the bank simply thought Shalev was doing a bit of legitimate business with an American company on the side. In fact, it was probably more acceptable than if he had paid in shekels.'

'But no electronic trail'.

Ziva shook her head. 'Nothing. I don't think they did anything electronically, Gibbs. Paper money was handed over in exchange for paper files. Which would maybe….' She broke off, and took a deep breath. What she had to say next would leave a nasty taste in her mouth. 'Which would maybe explain why the physical presence of a third party was necessary'.

Gibbs looked at her, a sinking feeling in his gut.

Ziva continued. 'Although Hamas prefers dollars, the main currency used in the Gaza strip is the Israeli shekel. Large sums of money in US dollars going in and out on a regular basis would have been noticed. Whoever was involved on that ship, Gibbs….I don't think they were helping Shalev'.

Gibbs shook his head slowly. 'No, they were helping Hamas'.

Ziva nodded. 'Bringing in the cash for Hamas to pay Shalev with. The question is, does Shalev know who?'

'Oh, he knows'. Gibbs's voice was quiet but steely. His gut was telling him that Shalev was not the kind of man to work with half the picture. He was also not stupid. He would have found out who the American contact was, for his own insurance if nothing else.

'We need a name, Ziva'.

She nodded, her face unreadable. 'I will get one, Gibbs'.

Gibbs was brought back to the present by Ziva's voice. She had switched to Hebrew. _So maybe we're getting somewhere. _Since he no longer understood what she was saying, he focused on Shalev, his facial expressions and body language. He didn't look comfortable, and Gibbs didn't blame him. Ziva could be ruthless in interrogation. _Wonder if he knows who she is?_ The door opened and closed quietly behind him, but he did not need to turn around to know who had entered the room. A few minutes passed in silence before the other man spoke.

'You have taught her well, Agent Gibbs'.

Gibbs continued to watch the screen in front of him.

'She has a name, Eli'.

'I know. She is my daughter, I gave it to her'.

Gibbs watched the screen in front of him as Ziva suddenly stood up, slamming her hands down on the table and leaning towards Shalev. _Eli's daughter. My agent. My partner. _

He finally turned around. Eli David looked older than he remembered, but still had the same commanding presence.

'Why are you here, Eli?'

'I gave you the intelligence, did I not? I wanted to make sure you were….using it wisely'. The older man paused, and looked at Gibbs intently. 'And I wanted to see my daughter'_. _

'Don't think she wants to see you, Eli'.

'Forgive me, Agent, Gibbs, but I was not aware that you have the right to speak for Ziva'.

Gibbs felt a stab of anger.

'I don't', he said, keeping his voice even and quiet. 'But a man who leaves his own daughter to die in the desert doesn't have much say, either'.

Eli blew out a sigh. 'Somalia. Always Somalia'.

'It is for Ziva', Gibbs said, still quiet, still watching the screen.

Eli was silent for a moment before speaking again.

'You are wondering why you are here.' It was a statement, not a question.

Gibbs waited.

'I could have sent the file directly to Leon, or to your NCIS team in…where is it now? Naples'.

_So why didn't you?_

'Are you gonna get to the point, Eli?'

Eli nodded slowly.

'I wanted to see her, Gibbs. Since it seems she would not come to me….. '. He shrugged, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid. _I must come to her._

Eli sighed. 'I cannot win this war, Agent Gibbs. There will always be another terrorist, another suicide bomber. More atrocities. More death. I have seen enough death. I could not even protect my own family from it. And then I thought I had lost Ziva too.'

Gibbs remained silent. He knew Eli had phoned Ziva just after the bomb had ripped through the heart of NCIS. It had been the first contact she had had with her father for over a year.

Eli suddenly looked tired. 'I wanted to see her, to talk to her. I told Leon that if he wanted Shalev, he would have to send someone to get him. I knew he would send Ziva'.

'Could have used the phone again, Eli.'

Eli chuckled. 'Is it so terrible for an old man to want to see his only surviving daughter?' His face became serious again. 'You are very protective of her, Agent Gibbs. And perhaps…yes, perhaps, you have earned that right. But I ask you, please let me speak to her. Let her tell me herself if she does not want to see me'.

The sound of a door slamming drew both mens' attention back to the screen, where Shalev was now the only figure visible. Almost immediately, the door to their own room opened. Ziva, walking quickly, stopped short at the sight of Eli. Father and daughter looked at each other in silence.

'Shalom, Ziva'.

Gibbs had to admire the way Ziva kept herself under control. Even he couldn't read her face. She took a deep breath.

'Shalom, aba'.

She looked at him for a moment, her expression betraying nothing. Then she turned to Gibbs.

'He has given me a name'.


	6. Catharsis

**Gibbs**

Gibbs sat on the concrete steps leading down to the beach, watching Ziva walk towards the sea. Things had moved fast that afternoon. Ziva hadn't told him what she had said to make Shalev crack, and he didn't ask. _Some things it's best not to know. _After a quick phone call to Vance, the NCIS team at Naples had been instructed to pick up the junior crew member that Shalev had named, and fly him to DC for further questioning. Vance had sounded like he was looking forward to doing it himself. Gibbs smiled at the thought.

His smile faded as he thought about Ziva. When Eli had asked her if they could get a coffee, maybe talk for a while, she had agreed, but Gibbs had sensed her nervousness. He had wanted to go with her, to support her and yes, protect her. _Damn right I've earned it_. But all he could do was squeeze her arm and whisper that he was just on the end of the phone if she needed him, and to ask Eli not to keep her too long as they had paperwork to complete before leaving.

She had not been long at all, and had returned to the Embassy without Eli.

Gibbs sighed. It had been late when they finished up the paperwork and finally made it back to the hotel. After they had both showered and changed, he had suggested a walk along the beach to try and clear their minds of the case. He couldn't deny that he had also hoped Ziva would start talking. But they had walked up past the marina and back down without saying a word. Their silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it did worry him.

He watched her now, paddling in the shallow waves that lapped the shore, one hand holding her sandals and the other holding her hair back off her face as she stared out to sea. Despite everything, he couldn't help but admire her. She had changed into a simple black linen dress – he couldn't remember ever seeing her in a dress before, apart from when she was undercover – and somehow it made her look younger and more vulnerable. _And sexy. _He shook his head at himself. Despite the late hour, the beach was still busy. People were out playing volleyball, running, walking their dogs, sunbathing and even still swimming. The sinking sun cast a golden glow and long shadows, softening the harsh lines of the high-rise buildings behind him and the people around him. He looked up, shading his eyes as a helicopter flew low overhead, patrolling the coastline. It was the only visible sign that they were in a country that was effectively at war. He watched it disappear over the horizon as Ziva sat down beside him, brushing sand from her damp feet and following his gaze to the sky.

'The IDF patrols the coast up to Lebanon and down to Gaza'. It was the first time she had spoken since they left the hotel. He turned to her, but she was looking away, back up the beach towards the marina. _Forget Rule 12. She needs you. _

'Ziver'.

She didn't move. He reached over and gently placed a finger under her chin, drawing her round to face him. Her eyes looked away, towards the sea, anywhere but him.

'Talk to me'.

**Ziva**

She couldn't look at him. _Talk to me. _What was there to say?

'There is nothing to say, Gibbs', she said quietly.

His finger moved upwards, tracing the line of her jaw up to her cheekbone. She fought the urge to just give in and close her eyes and lean against his hand. He was so gentle. _He is your boss. _

'Look at me'.

She raised her head slightly, willing her pulse to slow and the tears that were threatening to fill her eyes to go away. _Please not now. _His finger stroked her cheek.

'Don't bury it again, Ziva'. He spoke quietly. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, listening to the sounds of the waves breaking gently on the shore. When she spoke, her own voice was so soft that she herself could barely hear it.

'I felt nothing, Gibbs. After the shock of seeing him again, after realizing that I no longer have the strength to be angry with him, and I no longer need to fear him, I felt nothing. He's my father, and I felt nothing.' She opened her eyes, looking at the sun sinking in to the sea. Her hands rested on her knees, and Gibbs carefully laid his hand over hers, stroking her thumb, comforting, back and forth.

'I have spent my life wanting his approval, waiting for him to say something that meant I had finally earned his respect, that I had earned his love. Everything I did, I did because he ordered me to. When he ordered me to go to Somalia, I could not say no. I wanted a father more than anything.' She broke off, a single tear falling silently down her cheek. Suddenly furious with herself, she reached up to wipe it away, but Gibbs caught her hand.

'I knew what the mission was, Gibbs. I took it because I was too weak to say no'.

More tears were falling, but Gibbs still held on to her hand. Her other hand was pinned underneath his on her knee. She still could not look at him. Words were tumbling out of her as fast as the tears, but she could not hold them back either.

'I realized something in that prison camp, Gibbs – that he is who he is. He would never be a father in the way I wanted him to be, and he would never change. He sent me there knowing I would be tortured and probably killed, whether we got to Saleem first or not, and when I realized that….' She broke off again, tears catching in her throat. 'There was nothing left to live for. I had made myself into someone I hated, to please someone whom I could never please. He had left me there to die. And slowly he has become dead to me.' She closed her eyes again, and her voice dropped to a whisper. 'Everyone else has gone. My mother, Tali, Ari. I feel like a stranger in my own country. He asked for my forgiveness, Gibbs. My forgiveness. How can I forgive him when he means nothing anymore?'

**Gibbs**

He looked at Ziva, tears falling down her cheeks from beneath her closed eyelids. There was so much he could have said to her, but words were not enough right now and anyway, he had never been much good at choosing them. Instead he slowly let go of her hand, and slipped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in close. She was shaking uncontrollably. He moved his other hand to stroke her hair, while he slowly rubbed her back as the tears continued to fall. He felt her body tense as his hand moved further down her back, over the physical scars that she kept well hidden but that he knew must still be there. In one spot, he could feel a slight welt under the soft linen of her dress, but he kept his hand moving and gradually felt her relax against him. He fought down the familiar feelings of anger and horror at what had happened to her. _A bullet was too good for Saleem. And a bullet would be too good for Eli. _

He had no idea how long they sat there on the steps. Gradually the beach emptied as it got later and darker, but no one bothered them or asked if they needed help. He was strangely grateful that they had been left alone. _I guess they know grief when they see it. _He felt Ziva move back slightly, away from him, and he looked down at her. For the first time that night, she returned his gaze, and even gave him a small smile. He felt his heart beat a little faster. _Did I really say to forget Rule 12?_ _Maybe the rules don't apply in Israel._

Ziva opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her once again with a finger to her lips. This time, however, she did not tense, and he did not pull away. _Time to choose some of those words._

'You never have to earn love, Ziver'.

She looked at him, questioning with her eyes.

'And it's ok to let go'.

He moved his finger and lowered his head, gently brushing her lips with his before standing up and holding out his hand. Hesitantly she took it, picking up her sandals with her free hand, and they slowly started to walk.

**Ziva**

She was in turmoil as they walked slowly back towards the hotel. Even as she opened the door to her room and let him inside, a voice was screaming at her to _stop, run, tell him to leave._ _Anything. This is a bad idea. _But she couldn't. She had wanted him for a long time, and tonight she needed him. When he kissed her, all rational thought disappeared. They talked, but later on she couldn't remember any of their conversation except for telling him that no-one had ever seen her scars before. He raised his eyebrows, and despite herself she laughed at his unspoken question.

'Ray and I…uh….we always made love in the dark. I could not do it otherwise'.

Later, when they had talked enough and kissed enough, he drew her to him and reached for the light switch. She caught his hand, and shook her head.

'You sure, Ziva?"

She nodded, and took a deep breath. She knew she did not have to say anything. Her eyes said how scared she was, but also that she was ready to let it go. _I want him to see. _

He moved behind her and gently unzipped her dress. As it fell to the floor, she knew that he could see everything. The worst marks Saleem had left on her would never disappear completely. Tears started to roll down her face again as he softly kissed first one, then another, then another. Finally he turned her around to face him and pulled her close, wiping away her tears and whispering in her ear.

'Never hide in the dark, Ziva'.

Afterwards, when she was lying half asleep in his arms, he asked if she was ok. She could hear the concern in his voice, and for the first time in years, she realised that she didn't have to lie with her answer.

'I will be ok, Jethro. I will be fine'.


	7. Epilogue: Return

Ziva leaned back in her seat and watched as the Tel Aviv skyline faded into the distance. She knew she would never be back. There was no longer a place for her in Israel. It was still a strange feeling, but one that she would have to get used to. She had also decided not to see Eli again. Her true family were elsewhere.

She glanced over at Gibbs in the seat next to her, already reading the in-flight magazine. _Something else to get used to. _They had woken up together like lovers, she snuggled into him and did not want to get up. But neither of them had mentioned what had passed between them the previous night. She did not know how it would be back in the office, or even if they would see each other in that way again. As usual, he was giving her no clue.

She turned back to the window, and stifled a yawn. She smiled to herself. _Not much sleep last night. _She felt Gibbs nudge her gently.

'Go to sleep'.

_Does he ever miss anything? _She was about to explain that she never slept on planes, surrounded by strangers in an enclosed space, when the amused look in his eyes stopped her. _But of course, he already knew that. _

'Go to sleep, David', Gibbs said quietly, returning to his magazine. His hand settled on her knee and squeezed gently. ' I got your back'.


End file.
